A Daughter of Pompeii
by ReadorSleep
Summary: He was the type of man that would fight the gods, ride thunder clouds, challenge the mightiest of Romans, and he was mine. Mine for the taking, mine for the final moments of my life.
1. A Daughter of Pompeii

**AUTHORS NOTE:** So I just watched the movie Pompeii and god am I inspired. So if you've read my other story I'm not good at updated and I really only write when I have a passion. But no worries, I plan on seeing the movies roughly a million more times so I hope to continue this story. Oh and by the way I'm a hopeless romantic mostly the hopeless part so when Milo is introduced expect an intense love story. Reviews are welcomed and well needed. You guys tell e what you want and I shall comply if it fits into what I have in my head.

Chapter 1: Daughter of Pompeii

He was the type of man that would fight the gods, ride thunder clouds, challenge the mightiest of romans, and he was mine. Mine for the taking, mine for the final moments of my life.

My life was a simple one to like the like of my kin. My family was wealthy and held power over the city of Pompeii. My parents were good people, who I believe lived for the good of the people and together along with the servants of the house we lived in a great villa atop a great cliff overlooking the restless waves of Neptune. Today was a day no different from all the rest. Completely un-extraordinary, utterly the same yet something hung in the air that gave it life. Something was the happen today and for good or worse I must see it through. There was no running for a daughter of Pompeii. In most of good, obedient, mindless eye of Romans they would see that thought as a thought of a disloyal. But it was true. I was no daughter of Rome, my home was Pompeii.

My father walks onto the balcony and stands silent staring at the waves. I look at him staring at the crow's feet branching from the corner of his eyes. My father was a kind man, the kind of man that would never turn down the chance to help his people. His smile was as easy as breathing but today he seemed grim. He had news from Rome. After minutes of silence, he looks to me. His only daughter. "If I were to say that you have been summoned to Rome what would you think?"

I look out to the sea and think about my answer. Rome. The Great city and empire. Greedy old egotistical men scavenging for a young bride to show off at parties and political functions. People with single-minded imaginations and more money than they could spend stolen from the "conquered". I had no interest in Rome nor the politics of Rome, but this was my father. My kind loving father who would never make me do something I wouldn't want to do. If I said no he would surely agree with my decision, and rise to my side if there was a choice. But judging from the look on his face a lot rode on me spending time in the "heart" of the empire. I nod and smile politely "I would think this has something to do with the good of Pompeii and I would love to go, would you and mother be joining me?"

He shakes his head and the worry lines deepen in his forehead. "Pompeii needs me and what would I be without your mother?" He gives a forced chuckle. His smile though dim brings light to his face and accentuates his strong nose and square face. Unlike the whole of Rome my father possessed light blond hair now whitening with old age that covered the lower of his face and the whole of his head with loose curls. His eyes usually a clear grey, are stormy with rolling worries and thoughts. Traits he passed onto me. "When will I be leaving?"

"Soon I'm afraid. You leave in the morning." He nods as if he's made up him mind on something and leaves. His lavish robes billowing behind his sandaled feet.

Rome it is.

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	2. Tall, Dark and Fighting

Chapter 2: Tall, dark and fighting

On the carriage ride heading to my home after a year in Rome, I saw him. Stoic and tall will thick curls, and hard eyes. He was strong and steady and held my gaze for but a moment. He was hardened and through his dark eyes I saw his sadness. He was something I had never seen. Of course I had seen slaves before but they were all so different. So broken. Whether they were born with none or had it beaten out of them the slaves, they had no spirit. With one glance I saw through his clenched fists and strained cuffs, he still fought. He walked chained in rows with the others of his kind, led by angry men in imperial armour and cruel masks. We held each other's interest for moments as he walked in a lineup and I rode in a lavish carriage. The guard yanks at his chains when his walking slows, his cuffs biting into his wrists. I wince, and his hard features are pulled from my sight. I wonder his purpose, judging from his strong frame he must be a gladiator, sentenced to kill in the arena or die trying. The thought disgusts me and I push it from my mind.

Ariadne sits beside me all during the bumpy ride. She is what most people would call my servant but to me she is like a sister. A close friend with whom I grew up and played with as a child. She would follow me to the ends of the earth and I would do anything for her. I offer her an uneasy grin and she grins back. Her smile is bright and happy, her skin is a creamy brown and her eyes a dark near black. Like me she was overjoyed to leave Rome. In the beginning I suspected the true reason I was shipped off to Rome. I was of age. I was sent there to entice wealthy men to believe they could sweep me off my feet and fund the growing city of Pompeii. And during my long days on the road I remember being happy. Not for the husband scouting of course, I felt no burning urge to spend my life serving a man I barely knew and scarcely loved. No, I was happy to spend the rest of my life doing what I was born to do. Love my city and help it grow and become all I could be. For Pompeii the world.

After more than a month in this damn carriage we finally come to a stop. Home. A servant opens the carriage door for Ariadne and I, and I thank him. A habit the wealthy of Rome would frown upon, but a habit still, my parents encouraged. After a year in an extravagant palace belonging to a friend of my fathers I was so happy to be back at the villa. I imagine my parents awaiting me at the door and I can hardly contain my joy. Of all the things I missed, I had missed my parents the most. Grabbing Araidne's hand I run through the open gates, through the fountain courtyard and into my fathers open embrace. Switching quickly to my mothers and soon I end up hugging them both.

"I had missed you both so much." I grin and laugh to myself as I spot a tear in my fathers eye.

"And we, you my darling." My mother had always been one of the most beautiful women in Pompeii. With her regal straight nose and gracious lips and perhaps the warmest eyes you would ever know. Though when I talked about her with Ariadne, she had hinted that my mother was a little intimidating. To that I had laughed, "What?" she replied with a caring smile "Well maybe not around you. After all my years in your service I have found that you have developed this nasty habit of bringing out the best in people."

**AUTHORS'S NOTE: **I know these are super short and if you actually like the story you are probably pissed right now. I would be too but bear with me, I'm just waiting for some ideas and when I get one that I really like watch out, because I love to make chapters long as long as I have sexy ideas. INBOX ME YOUR IDEAS.


	3. Justice

Chapter 3: Justice

Its early morning when I finally awake. Last night had been a blur, I remember my parents throwing a feast, I remember seeing someone there… Someone I didn't wish to see. I spend a minute attempting to recall a name or face, after another moment I give up. He can't have been quite as important as I seemed to believe if I could not remember him. Come to think of it, I can't seem to remember much of last night at all. I look around my modest room to search for clues, hints as to what had happened and wince as bright sunlight cuts through a break in the curtains and temporarily blind me. My head throbs, and I struggle to regain my composure. I search across my neat four poster bed and through the soft white curtains separating my bed from my chambers. Which greatly consist of the large white four postured bed, an armour with a cloudy mirror, my bedpan, my wash basin and a closet. Growing up I had insisted on simplicity simply because extravagance made me feel guilty.

Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, I rise from my bed and walk across the cool marble flooring to my armour. I sit on the ornately carved stool and lean into the mirror. My father's pale square face stares back at me with round protruding cheekbones and large grey eyes with the lips and nose of my mother. I search the pale skin of my small body through the mirror, my eyes finding a small purple blotch blossoming on my wrist. I used my fingers to trace the pattern and gasp as I realize it fits the trace of a much larger hand than mine. What had happened last night. Maybe I… I struggle to find a reasonable explanation and fail. Perhaps this has something to do with that mysterious man. Maybe Ariadne could fill in some of my blanks from last night. I call out to her and she walks into the room with my wash basin already filled and heated with scented water. "Good morn Lady Cassia." She smiles and glides over to place it atop my armour.

My thoughts are somewhere else and I offer and absent minded smile. "Ariadne, what happened last night at the feast?" At that her smile falters.

"You cannot remember…?" she inquires carefully.

"No. I awoke this morning with a throbbing head and no memory of last night. And when I looked in the mirror I saw this." I raise my tender wrist to meet her cautious gaze. She takes a sharp intake of breathe and reaches for it. "Please just tell me what happened last night; my curiosity craves more attention than my wrist." She pulls her hands back and lowers her gaze.

"I do not know." Her voice is weak.

"How can you not know? You were with me last night." Between the confusion and unanswered questions my head begins to boil.

"We were separated; a senator of Rome requested your company and you left. You told me you would only be a minute but a minute came and went and you did not return. I could not find you for the rest of the night. I just assumed you went to visit the stables."

"Who was this senator?" All this talk of the things I had done and could not remember frightened me. Maybe if I could find this senator I could ask him. _That would not be wi_se, the voice at the back of my head chastised.

"I do not know his name; I only know he was one of the men interested in investing in your father's ideas." Another dead end, my hopes fall.

"Well somehow I ended up at the villa, do you know how?"

Ariadne bites her lip and looks past me to the open balcony "I- well… a man carried you to me…. Unconscious…"

"Wha- what man!?" I gawk. Why did she not start with this! It seemed like a considerably important piece of information to me!

"I don't know who! I was a little preoccupied with trying to figure out how to sneak you inside! I didn't think you would like your father starting a cursed investigation as to what happened to you! Whatever happened last night I thought you would have wanted to deal with it yourself!" She seemed as confused as I am and I feel guilty for focusing on myself. I probably put her through a lot last night.

"You're right. I am sorry for all the questions. It's just that, all of this," I motion to open air "scares me."

She looks to me with deep thoughtful eyes and wraps me in a warm comforting embrace. "Me too, Lady Cassia, me too."

My father enters the room "Forgive me, but we have been summoned to witness a justice." He averts his eyes when he spots me still seated in my light nightgown.

I rise from the stool and grab hold of Ariadne's hand for support. "We'll meet you in the courtyard father." He gives a swift nod and closes the door behind him. I look to Ariadne and she looks and worried as I feel. Witnessing a justice meant standing amongst a crowd standing by while a man woman or child is lashed with a whip. A justice I felt wavered on injustice, considering the fact that these "criminals" were often slaves that displeased their masters.

My father and mother stand tall and emotionless beside me as I struggle to keep an equally emotionless expression. Growing up, I had learned to treat all people with kindness including the servants of our house hold, and this went against everything I believed in. Still, it was expected of me and so there I stood. Behind my back a squeezed Ariadne's hand, as the criminal was brought through the crowd of both the wealthy and common. Silently he was pulled along by a guard I didn't recognize armed with a whip, and cruel eyes. The chains around the slave's ankles, wrists and neck suggested the danger he posed. I wonder what he had done though I would never know because these facts were considered to be the business of their master. The crowd jeered and threw stones at the man, calling insults as the guard kicked his legs out from under him. The crowd roared. Still the man stayed silent, his head down until finally the guard raised his hand and the crowd fell silent.

The man raised his Head and I froze. Hard dark eyes, thick black curls and a hidden sadness. Ariadne gasped; "That's the man."


End file.
